


Definition

by ElainaFairchild



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Almost No Dialogue, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Spock (Star Trek), Pre-Relationship, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElainaFairchild/pseuds/ElainaFairchild
Summary: Spock leaves a mark. Jim doesn't.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 197





	Definition

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not really sure what this is or where it came from 
> 
> the muses decided to hit me with the inspiration stick so here we are, several years after this is relevant

Some say that you have to really mean it—really _want_ it—if you’re going to leave a mark. You could touch your soulmate a thousand times, give a thousand caresses, and you might never know it. Some say you’ll only leave a mark if and when it is “meant to be.”

The truth lies somewhere in between, both simpler and more complex than either assertion.

All that Spock knows is that this isn’t the first time he’s touched Kirk—the man is blooming bruises in various places as testament to all the touches that came before—but this is, apparently, the touch that _counts_. Horror swells before he can quell it, and he swiftly turns away from Kirk. Away from the sight of his own hand printed starkly in black across the other man’s throat.

He is emotionally compromised. His mind cannot decide which torment to focus on—the sight of his mother falling into the core of his crumbling planet, fingers just barely out of reach; or Kirk’s dazed expression as he lay flat against the console, Spock’s own fingers permanently etching themselves into Kirk’s skin. It is his greatest misfortune that Vulcans are capable of contemplating (dwelling on) many complex problems at once.

He could not save his mother. He has harmed his t’hy’la. He is suddenly bondless, though T’Pring’s absence registers only vaguely amidst the rest of the pain he is experiencing. It only serves to compound the feelings of loss and isolation. If he were wont to wax poetic, he would say that he might very well drift away, completely untethered in the face of all his loss.

It has been many years since he indulged in poetry.

His conversation with his father leaves him momentarily shaken as his paradigm shifts. The shift is necessary, and allows him to find the inner peace necessary to complete the mission that lay ahead of him—ahead of them all. Kirk agrees with his plan, and insists on accompanying him, as Spock had suspected the man would do.

Spock pulls his shirt up over his arm to see if he has been marked in return; his bicep is unblemished, even as the echo of Kirk’s playful slap still sings through his skin.

Nyota’s kiss is a formality more than anything; her very human way of acknowledging all that has happened. It is a farewell giftwrapped in affection and acceptance. Spock knows this, just as he knows that Nyota will never be second to another. Kirk still has yet to acknowledge the way Spock’s thumbprint curls beneath the corner of his jaw, and Spock is not certain whether to be grateful.

When all is said and done, Kirk has risen to be a captain in his own right, and Spock is both anxious and eager to follow this man who, by his own insistence as well as that of whatever force governs soulmarks, will supposedly be the one to define him.

James Kirk is an exceptional captain. He earns the loyalty and respect of his crew in short order. Even Nyota’s treatment of the man changes, though Spock suspects her forgiving attitude is at least partly related to the ink-black imprint of lips that appears on the back of her hand.

Spock is not surprised that it takes very little time for them to find trouble, though he is somewhat surprised to find himself quite literally at the center of it. He is certain of his own death in the volcano on Nibiru, and he makes his peace with it. After all, his t’hy’la still has not acknowledged the bond between them, and Spock cannot find it in himself to blame Kirk. Spock can barely meet Jim’s eyes much of the time. At least this death will be honorable and chosen; it is far preferable to the death of the unbonded, feverish and driven mad.

He still cannot meet Jim’s eyes when the man calls him “friend.” A small, intensely Vulcan part of himself burns at the word, insisting that _this is it_. This is the recognition he has been waiting for. Spock thinks he knows Jim better than that by now; for Jim, a friend is merely that. It is unlikely that Jim even knows the word “t’hy’la,” let alone its varied translations.

Jim is a tactile man, casual in his affection in a way that most are not, considering the way a single touch can alter the course of a person's life. Some call him careless, and at one time, Spock would have agreed with them. Spock knows now that Jim’s carelessness is feigned, and he is pleased to note that he is not the only one privy to this perspective. Despite this, there are many who still wish to change Jim. Spock cannot disagree; change is a necessary part of growth. Spock is illogically frustrated by this assessment.

He checks himself for marks after every moment of contact, however fleeting. His skin remains stubbornly clear, and meditation becomes more vital than ever.

Pike’s death takes a toll on Jim, and cracks begin to show in ways that Spock could not have anticipated. Jim tries valiantly to maintain the walls he has built around himself, but the depth of his feeling shines through, and Spock is aware that Jim is frightening the crew. This time, it is Jim who is emotionally compromised. Spock is not inclined to appreciate the irony. Even compromised, Jim is an exceptional captain. He does his duty; saves the _Enterprise_.

Spock kneels beside Jim as he takes his last breaths. He still cannot meet Jim’s eyes, though for a different reason this time. They are normally too vibrant to bear; now they are too dull.

Jim presses his hand to the glass, and Spock cannot ignore the gesture, could not live with himself if he were to deny Kirk this last comfort. His eyes follow the shape of his fingerprints on Jim’s throat as he tells Jim that he does not know how to help him stop feeling. Jim exhales, his eyes losing the last of their light, and his lifeless hand slipping down the glass.

Spock pulls away, looks down at his own hands. It should not be possible. It is unprecedented.

There is no denying what he sees: stark black like spilled ink, painting his palm from wrist to fingertips.

The sight of it pulls a ragged, animal sound from him. It swims in his mind’s eye as he leaves engineering, leaves the ship, to hunt down the man responsible for this loss. His fists collide with Khan and all he sees is black. It is very nearly his undoing; he will spend hours in meditation later, reflecting on how very easy it would have been to kill Khan, taking Jim (and thus himself) with him.

Jim is revived, and when he finally wakes, Spock is there.

“The ship…” Jim says slowly, voice hoarse. “Out of danger?”

“You saved the ship, Jim.”

Spock’s sable eyes meet Jim’s blue ones, finally grateful for their intensity. Spock decides then that he will ensure Jim’s eyes never have cause to dull again. Jim smiles knowingly, as if he has heard the thought.

“I suppose I’m stuck here until further notice, then,” Jim says with a rueful air, his words trailing into a coughing fit, and Spock helps him drink some of the water from the pitcher at Jim’s bedside.

“I do not believe Doctor McCoy will be willing to release you for some time.”

Jim nods, having expected as much. He grins again, gesturing to the datapadd tucked under Spock’s arm. “Chess?”

Spock acquiesces, taking a moment to alert McCoy to Kirk’s condition before navigating to the chess application. When he meets Jim’s eyes again, they are locked on Spock’s blackened palm. Jim hums thoughtfully.

“I guess I finally left an impression, huh?”

Spock’s brow furrows as he considers this.

“I believe,” Spock begins, choosing his words carefully, “it is more accurate to say that I have finally _earned_ your impression.”

That statement still leaves much to be desired, and the furrow between Spock’s brows deepens momentarily. “English is a rather imprecise language.”

Jim’s laughter is bright and jarring in the quiet of the hospital; Spock indulges in the sound, knowing very well he might never have heard it again.

“I think I understand what you mean, Spock,” Jim says reassuringly, placing a hand on Spock’s shoulder.

“I am not certain that I understand, Jim.”

Jim’s smile is soft, his words delivered like repetition—like an oath.

“I have been, and ever shall be, your friend.”

Spock suppresses a frown; “friend” is the most egregious example of the imprecise nature of the language, and the one he most takes issue with.

“I guess ‘friend’ is pretty imprecise too, isn’t it?” Jim comments, startling Spock out of his consternation. He does not laugh again, but Spock can see the laughter in Jim’s eyes. “I think you have a better word for what we are, don’t you?”

“T’hy’la,” Spock replies. His voice is barely above a whisper. Kirk nods, having expected this as well. He finally drops his hand from Spock’s shoulder, clasping Spock’s marked hand. It is impolite—Sarek would be appalled. Spock finds that he does not care.

“A mutual friend of ours told me that we’re supposed to define each other,” Jim says, squeezing the fingers in his grip. “I’m not a linguist—I’ve never been fussed about definitions, but I happen to think this one is pretty important. Because you say 't'hy'la' the same way that I might say 'soulmate'.”

“Indeed,” Spock replies, his gaze distant as he processes the onslaught of information and sensory input.

“Spock,” Kirk says sharply, forcing Spock’s eyes to snap back to his own. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I swear—“

Once more, Spock does not have it in him to deny Jim.

**Author's Note:**

> lets just pretend this never happened mkay?
> 
> yay i love anxiety


End file.
